Dimwits Of The Desert
by Red Witch
Summary: The gang has a fun little trip out in the desert. Complete with explosives, alcohol and other illegal substances.


**Somewhere out in the desert there is the disclaimer telling you that I don't own any Archer characters. Just some craziness that popped through my tiny mind.**

 **Dimwits Of The Desert **

"Krieger why the hell did you make several dozen illegal rocket launchers?" Lana snapped.

The majority of the Figgis Agency was in the bullpen. Along with a few boxes of highly dangerous weapons. And by a few I mean at least sixty.

"Just say rocket launchers," Krieger corrected. "Technically most rocket launchers owned outside of the military are illegal…Except for a few states that have very progressive…"

"KRIEGER!" Lana shouted. "Just tell me **why!"**

"So we can be prepared when we find those killer clowns," Krieger told her.

"Oh yeah. I forgot all about those guys," Pam realized.

"I wish I could forget Mr. Rompers!" Cheryl grumbled. "He never calls. He never writes. TEASE!"

"We don't need rocket launchers to deal with those assholes!" Lana snapped.

"I don't know Lana," Ray said. "They held us hostage and got us shot at by several bean bag guns. I'm not saying rocket launchers should be the first line of attack. But maybe a few in reserve…?"

"I can't believe you'd pull this on a day Mallory isn't here," Lana groaned. "On second thought **yes, I can!"**

"What makes you think she **wouldn't** approve of this?" Pam snorted.

"She totally would," Cheryl agreed.

"Would not surprise me," Cyril nodded.

"Actually…" Krieger began.

 **"NO!"** Lana snapped. "No rocket launchers! Get rid of these things! I don't care how you do it. Actually, I **do** care. I don't want these things traced back to us so don't sell them. Or leaving them in a random dumpster…"

"You realize you just seriously limited our options, right?" Krieger interrupted.

"Just get **rid** of them!" Lana snapped. "Since Mallory is with Archer today and won't be in until tomorrow…And AJ has a half day at school…I am going to pick her up and spend the day with her."

"Excuse me, Lana," Cyril coughed. "You do realize **I** am the head of this agency…So…"

Lana glared at Cyril. "So, **you** go spend the day with your daughter," Cyril gulped. "And we will deal with the uh, rocket launchers."

"Good," Lana grabbed her purse and left the building.

Pam looked at Cyril. " _Brilliant leadership_. Captain Dick-card."

"I was going to go with Theodore Bore-sevelt," Krieger remarked.

Cheryl added. "More like Admiral Phillip Charles Dumbass."

"You know…?" Cyril snapped.

Ray added. "J. Edna Hoover also works."

"It does," Cheryl agreed. "Because of his lack of balls."

"KNOCK IT OFF!" Cyril snapped. "Look how are we going to get rid of a bunch of rocket launchers? And am I correct in assuming at least a couple of rockets?"

"Uh…" Krieger paused.

Cut to his lab where there were over two dozen boxes of projectile explosives. "Yes…," Krieger admitted.

"So how do we get rid of them?" Cyril asked.

Krieger paused. "We could always go to the desert and blow some random shit up."

"Okay," Ray agreed.

"I'm in," Pam nodded.

"Why the hell not?" Cyril sighed.

"YAY! SENSELESS VIOLENCE!" Cheryl cheered. "That's the **best** kind!"

Several hours later in a remote area of desert early in the evening…

KA-BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!

A cactus was being blown into literal pulp by Pam using a rocket launcher.

"WHOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!" Everyone shouted with glee. They had travelled in the Rush Van. There were many coolers of beer, alcohol and bags of snacks. A small bonfire was also going and providing light. Several lawn chairs were placed around it.

"That's one way to do some gardening!" Pam whooped.

"Great shot, Pam," Ray said.

"It's my turn!" Cyril snapped.

"That's nothing," Ray snickered as he picked up his rocket launcher. "See those boxes over there?"

"You're not thinking of…?" Pam gasped as she looked at several boxes of rocket launchers.

"Well Lana did say to get rid of them," Krieger held his rocket launcher. "This is one way to do it. Ready Ray?"

"Go Herd!" Ray grinned. Then he and Krieger fired at the boxes in the distance at the same time.

KABOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!

KABOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!

"OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH!" Everyone cheered with joy at the destruction.

"Damn! I just felt a tremor!" Cheryl squealed.

"Blowing up rocket launchers **with** rocket launchers?" Pam gasped with joy. "That is so freaking sweet!"

"Yeah!" Both Ray and Krieger high fived each other.

"That's what I'm talking about!" Ray whooped.

"Damn right!" Krieger grinned. "This is better than the times my father took me to the gun range on our estate!"

"Sure as hell beats shooting tin cans with a shotgun," Ray laughed.

"You did that too?" Pam asked. "Awesome!"

"Damn it!" Cyril snapped. "I want to try!"

"Good thing we have plenty to spare!" Cheryl giggled as Pam helped her with a rocket launcher. There were still quite a few boxes of rocket launchers and rockets left.

"Even **Cheryl** gets a turn?" Cyril snapped.

"Cheryl has better aim than you," Ray told him.

"Oh yeah?" Cyril snapped. "That's it! I'm getting my own!" He went to do so.

"Okay Cheryl just relax and…" Pam instructed.

KABOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!

"BEST DAY **EVER!"** Cheryl squealed as another cactus blew up in the distance.

"Okay…" Cyril clumsily put a rocket into his rocket launcher. "Okay how hard can this be?"

"Uh this is **you** we're talking about so…" Pam snorted.

"Shut up!" Cyril snapped. "Annie Croak-ley!"

"Oooh you came up with a shooting themed insult," Pam mocked. "Actually, for you that was a pretty good burn."

"You want to see a burn?" Cyril pointed to a cactus in the distance. "See that cactus? **That's** going to burn! Suppressing fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiirrreee!"

KABOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!

There was a huge explosion. But the cactus remained intact.

"Damn Cyril," Pam laughed. "You can't even hit a cactus in the desert!"

THUD! THUD! THUD! THUD! THUD!

"No, but he got those gophers," Cheryl spoke as several well-cooked rodents fell to the ground.

"At least five of 'em," Ray realized. "Or six depending on what that charred lump is."

"Okay blowing up varmints counts," Pam shrugged. "Not bad Cyril."

"Now I know how Luke Skywalker felt on Tatooine," Cyril remarked.

"They are about the same size as Whomp Rats," Krieger admitted.

"Let's take a break from blowing up the ecosystem," Ray suggested as they put down their rocket launchers.

"I agree," Pam got another beer from the cooler. "Blowing shit up is thirsty work."

"This is actually fun," Cyril grinned as he got himself a beer. "I think my aim is getting better."

"Well it couldn't get much worse," Pam remarked. "But blowing up five or six gophers in one shot. That's impressive for you Cyril."

"Was that so hard to say?" Cyril asked as they all sat around the campfire.

"Look at all those stars," Ray whistled as he looked up. "Man, it's beautiful out here."

"Hard to believe we were once **up there** ," Pam agreed before she took a swig of beer.

 **"You** were up there," Krieger grumbled. "I didn't get to go."

"Consider yourself lucky," Ray groaned. "You didn't get paralyzed when Archer crashed the damn space shuttle."

"Or hurt like the rest of us," Cyril groaned. "I mean parts of that mission were pretty cool. That last part…not so much."

"Tell me about it," Ray groaned.

"Now that I think about it," Krieger realized. "I didn't go on a **lot** of missions! I almost never get out of the lab."

"Well you are in research," Cyril sighed. "Usually you guys don't get out in the field."

"This from the **accountant**?" Krieger snapped. "Who somehow managed to get out into the field **all the time**!"

"He's got a point," Pam admitted.

"As well as the HR Director…" Krieger realized. "And the damn **secretary**?"

"Again," Pam took a drink. "You have a point."

"I didn't get to go on the Nereus," Krieger counted off. "I didn't get to go to Paris. I didn't get to go to Sea Lab. I didn't get to go to Argentina. Well technically **back** to Argentina. But that's another story. I didn't get to go to Gstaad. I didn't get to go on the train to Canada. Even **Babou** got on **that ride!"**

"Fine Krieger," Ray groaned. "We'll take you on a field trip. Anywhere you want to go."

"Oh why did you promise him **that**?" Cyril moaned. "You know it's going to be something weird!"

"You say that like it's a bad thing," Cheryl blinked.

"This from a man who used to hold a membership pass to the Elevator Museum in New York," Krieger quipped.

"Hey that thing paid for itself after only two visits," Cyril told him.

"There's an _elevator museum_ in New York?" Ray blinked. "That's a new one on me."

"And in several other cities as well," Cyril told him. "It was very interesting. They had all kinds of artist events at least once a month. They decorated different elevators. Very artsy."

"Did you ever take Lana?" Pam asked. "I ask knowing the answer if you did, she'd have dumped your ass a long time ago."

"No," Cyril admitted. "But I did take Scatter Brain Jane there once. She didn't have a problem with it. Then again she was on a lot of medication due to the cancer…"

"You banged her in one of the exhibits there didn't you?" Pam asked.

"Oh yeah," Cyril grinned.

 _"Love in an elevator…"_ Ray sang before taking a swig of beer.

"I guess going to someplace weird isn't all bad," Pam shrugged.

"Can't be any weirder than Tunt Manor," Ray remarked.

"Tell me about it," Cheryl nodded.

"I'm telling you right now I am **not** going back to the Museum of Death!" Pam snapped.

"The **what?** " Ray did a double take.

"Don't ask," Pam groaned. "Let's just say it makes the Salem Witch Museum look like Disneyland."

"I loved it," Cheryl giggled.

"Big surprise," Pam groaned. "Suicide machines, stuffed wild animals in gruesome positions, baby coffins, and the severed head of one of France's most notorious serial killers. What's not to love?"

"I enjoyed it too," Krieger said.

"You weren't with me and Pam when we went," Cheryl blinked.

"No, I went with Mitsuko when we first arrived in LA," Krieger waved. "But I was thinking of something different."

"So where **do** you want to go?" Ray asked. "I ask afraid of what I just got myself into."

"Does that count as phrasing?" Pam asked before she burped.

Krieger paused for a moment. "I'm not sure exactly. I know I want to do something different."

"That's saying something with this group," Cyril quipped before he took a sip of beer.

"What about Disneyland?" Pam suggested. "We haven't been there yet."

"Something tells me we would not exactly blend in at the Happiest Place on Earth," Ray remarked.

"I thought Whore Island was the Happiest Place on Earth?" Pam asked. "We'd fit right in there."

Cheryl giggled. "Can you imagine if Disney built a ride based on our lives? They'd have to zone a red-light district in the parks!"

"Still on that TV show thing, are you?" Cyril groaned.

"Cyril," Cheryl looked at him. "Mickey Mouse is our new planetary overlord. Deal with it."

"You gotta admit," Krieger shrugged as he took a sip. "If the world is going to be run by a single major corporation anyway, you might as well work for one that's cheerful. And maybe a discount into the parks?"

"And Mickey Mouse is way nicer than Ms. Archer," Pam added.

"Cruella DeVil is nicer than Ms. Archer," Ray told her. "And has better taste in furs."

"So, none of you have a problem with a major corporation taking over our lives?" Cyril asked.

"You **do**?" Ray asked.

"Yeah I would have thought a place like that would be like paradise for accounting nerds like you?" Cheryl agreed.

"I'm not saying the benefits package wouldn't be attractive," Cyril admitted. "As well as any stock options."

"Right?" Cheryl snickered before taking a sip of beer.

"But honestly," Cyril asked. "What about being mavericks? Going for it alone! Like the Rebel Alliance?"

"Which is now owned by Disney," Pam gave him a look.

"Apparently there are three sides of the Force," Krieger remarked. "The light side. The dark side. And the Donald Duck side."

"Cyril this is the way of the future anyway," Pam told him. "Even rock bands sell out."

"You know what I heard the other day?" Krieger asked. "A cereal commercial with the tune of Werewolves of London in the background. What the hell is Werewolves of London doing in a **cereal commercial**?"

"Was it a commercial for Count Chocula?" Pam asked. "Or Franken Berry?"

"No," Krieger shook his head. "Some kind of Raisin Bran."

"I guess even werewolves need to stay regular," Cheryl shrugged.

"Everybody sells out," Pam shrugged. "Might as well get on the bandwagon."

"But what about individualism?" Cyril asked.

"You still get that," Ray said. "You have choices about your life and what to do with it. The only difference is your money all comes from the same place."

"Yeah let's get paid!" Pam agreed.

"Honestly," Ray added. "How much worse can it be than the government?"

"Not that big a difference honestly," Krieger admitted. "Oh wait, huge corporations have more **competent leadership**. Except for Sears."

"And both of them take your money," Pam added. "At least with corporations you get cool stuff back."

"Yeah who cares about public schools and decent roads?" Cheryl added.

"Everybody learns from their computer or phone anyway," Pam said. "No need to go out."

"Everybody **buys** from their computer or phone!" Ray added. "No need to go out!"

"And if you do," Cheryl added. "Buy a jeep. Problem solved."

"What about going it alone? Fighting the good fight?" Cyril asked.

"Since when as this group ever fought the **good fight**?" Pam snapped. "And what have we got for it? A big pile of shit! That's what!"

"You have a point," Cyril sighed. "Let's leave the rebellion to teenagers and independent films. I want a house by the beach damn it."

"Me too," Ray sighed.

Cyril paused. "It is tempting. If someone offered me enough money for our agency…Yeah I'd probably take it."

"Who the hell would be that stupid to buy The Figgis Agency?" Cheryl laughed.

"Well **you're** here," Ray said dryly. "So that leaves Disney by default."

"Disney wouldn't buy **us** ," Cheryl scoffed. Then paused. "Unless we were part of a package deal. Then our asses are screwed."

"Phrasing," Ray quipped.

"Well we are seriously screwed if we don't do something to get more money into our agency," Cyril groaned.

"Yeah, I think we only have a couple seasons at best," Cheryl agreed. "Unless of course Disney reboots our asses."

"We may have to think of a Plan B," Cyril sighed.

"Plan **B?** " Ray looked at him. "Cyril…We're on God Damn Plan **F!"**

"As in **failure,** " Pam added. "This group has had some interesting paths career wise."

"I can't think of anything we haven't done yet," Krieger admitted.

"How about being **successful**?" Cyril snapped.

"Burn," Krieger admitted.

"Pretty fire," Cheryl sighed happily as she looked at it. "Burn pretty fire burn!"

"Ever think of what you would do in your life if you didn't have to worry about money?" Ray asked wistfully.

"Every day of my life," Cyril sighed.

"I'd want to buy a house on the beach," Pam sighed. "On Whore Island."

"That is one of my dreams," Cyril admitted.

"Me too," Krieger admitted.

"Man Whore Island," Ray said.

"Me too," Cheryl and Pam quipped.

"Maybe run a nice tropical resort?" Cyril took a drink.

"You mean like Faulty Towers without the British accents?" Cheryl snorted. "It's been done. I'm not saying Golden Palace didn't have its moments but…"

"Can we turn off TV Land for a while?" Cyril snapped. "I need another beer."

"Yeah," Pam threw down a can. "I need a refill."

"I got something better," Krieger got up and went to a cooler. "A pitcher of Krieger-Ritas! And red solo cups!"

"Now you're talking!" Pam whooped as Krieger pulled out a huge plastic pitcher with a green drink in it.

"You call them Krieger-Ritas because you made them yourself?" Cyril blinked as Krieger poured them drinks.

Krieger paused. "Yes."

"Why did you pause before…?" Ray blinked. "Never mind. Just give me the drink."

"Come on guys," Pam said. "Let's talk about something more positive. Like when the apocalypse is going to hit."

"Does the retail apocalypse count?" Cheryl asked. "Because that's already here."

Pam sipped her drink. "Damn Krieger! That's some good shit!"

"I got the vodka from Ms. Archer's personal stash," Krieger grinned as he sat down with his drink.

"This is good," Cyril agreed as they all drank.

"Krieger, you are the Drink Master," Ray raised his cup before taking another drink.

"Danke!" Krieger raised his cup before drinking it. "I should have been a bartender."

"You can still do that," Ray said. "We can both still do that. If everything goes south."

"That's where I'd like to go," Cheryl sighed. She started speaking in a southern accent. "Down below the Mason Dixon line. Where the air feels like it's trying to hug you even in the winter. And in the summer, it's hotter than a catfish frying on Granny's cast iron skillet."

"Cheryl…" Ray blinked. "Is there **someone else** with you in there?"

"There's probably a lot of people in there," Pam quipped.

Cheryl blinked. "I'm sorry. Did I say something?"

"Not a word," Ray groaned.

"We were talking about raisin bran, right?" Cheryl blinked. "I can't remember anything after that."

"I'm not gonna tell her," Pam admitted.

"Cheryl," Cyril sighed. "I've been meaning to talk to you about this. I think you have been hitting the Holy Trinity of booze, glue and drugs pretty hard lately. You might want to consider tapering off before you die in your own vomit."

"Because if you do," Ray said. "I ain't cleaning up after you."

"Then I'll hire someone else to do it! Jesus!" Cheryl rolled her eyes and took another drink.

"Yeah," Pam said nonchalantly. "You do that."

Ray took a drink and looked up at the stars. "Y'all ever wonder why we're here?"

Cheryl blinked. "We're here because you can't blow shit up in the middle of LA. Duh!"

"No, no!" Ray waved. "I mean why we're **here**! As in the **big picture**! What is our purpose in life?"

"Apparently mine is to be some kind of huge cosmic punchline," Cyril grumbled as he took a drink.

"That would explain a lot," Pam snickered.

"You know…?" Cyril glared at her.

"I used to be a minister," Ray sighed. "I used to have a purpose in life. And then I realized that life wasn't for me. So, I found another purpose. Then another. And then another. Long story short…"

"Too late," Pam quipped.

"Now my only purpose is to survive," Ray groaned. "And get wasted whenever possible while doing as little work as possible."

Pam paused. "You say that like it's a bad thing."

"Sounds like a plan to me," Cheryl agreed.

"I just wanted a little more in my life you know?" Ray sighed.

"I'd be lying if I said I didn't know exactly how you felt," Cyril sighed. "I had huge dreams too. I'd become a famous lawyer. Helping innocent people. Then a judge one day. And who knows? Maybe make it all the way to the Supreme Court."

"And now?" Ray asked.

"Now I'll just be happy if I don't die after getting gang raped in jail," Cyril groaned.

"Again…" Cheryl began. "Sounds like a great…"

"Cheryl!" Pam snapped. "Okay so none of our lives have exactly gone the way we thought they would."

Krieger spoke up. "My life is just fine."

"Mine too," Cheryl added.

"Shut up!" Pam told them. She turned back to Ray and Cyril. "My point is that we have gone through and survived more crazy shit than anyone else on this planet. So there has to be a reason. I think…"

"Ugh! BORING!" Cheryl moaned. "Let's talk about something else. All this downer talk is killing my buzz."

"Okay Dinah Snore, what do **you** want to talk about?" Pam gave her friend a look.

Cheryl paused. "I can't think of anything. My mind is a total blank."

"Quelle surprise," Ray groaned.

"I have one," Krieger said. "You know that movie where the premise of shrinking people to support the environment and extend money and all that?"

"We've already been shrunk Krieger," Ray told him. "Not that appealing."

" **You've** already been shrunk," Krieger corrected. "And it kind of is."

"Trust us on this one," Pam groaned. "When a damn white blood cell can take you out, you know you're screwed."

"I was thinking of something else," Krieger said. "What if mankind was given wings? Then we could fly around and shit! That would be awesome! I should try that!"

"Why not?" Pam quipped. "You're already a bird brain."

"Burn," Ray snickered.

"I just walked right into that one, didn't I?" Krieger sighed.

"More like flew into it," Cheryl snickered. "Like a pigeon into a plane engine."

"Oh right," Krieger blinked. "I forgot about the planes. That would congest traffic. Maybe some kind of winged pedestrian zone…?"

"Krieger don't try turning people into birds," Cyril groaned. "We have enough problems with mutants and cyborgs and clones as it is!"

"Besides we don't need actual wings!" Cheryl snapped. "We can use the glowing power of our auras to fly! I feel like I'm floating already!"

"So do I," Pam realized. "I am feeling lighter."

"For you that's an accomplishment," Ray quipped. "But now that y'all mention it I do feel a little weird."

"I feel a little weird too," Cyril fidgeted with his tie. "And warm."

"Well we are in a desert," Cheryl scoffed. "Duh!"

"Deserts are cold at night!" Cyril snapped.

"You're right," Krieger realized. "For some reason I feel rather warm."

"Maybe it's the **fire**?" Ray pointed.

"Hang on," Krieger got up and walked away from the fire. "Nope. Not the fire. Still feel warm."

"Hang on," Cyril got up and walked to Krieger. "He's right. It's still warm. And it's not the fire."

"Hang on," Pam said. She got up with Ray and Cheryl and walked over to them. "You guys are right. It's not the fire. I still feel hot. Weird."

"Maybe that lizard over there knows something?" Cheryl pointed. "That plaid one over there on that rock."

"A plaid lizard," Cyril blinked. "That just melted into liquid."

Pam blinked. "Oh, the liquid just turned into a bird and flew away."

"I guess it did," Krieger blinked.

"Hang on," Cyril realized something. "We all feel weird and warm for no reason. And just saw a lizard turn into liquid and then into a bird. And am I the only one that hears music? We didn't turn the radio on, did we?"

"No, we did not," Pam realized the same thing. "But for some reason I can hear some kind of new age Yanni music."

"So do I," Cheryl blinked. "Who's Yanni?"

"Krieger," Ray sighed. "Did you put some kind of drugs in the drink you gave us?"

"No!" Krieger snapped. "I didn't put drugs **in** the drink! I made it from the juices of various fruits and plants. The secret ingredient is cactus juice."

"What **kind** of cactus?" Ray asked.

"The Lophophora Williamsii," Krieger nodded. "One my clones sent me a whole box of them."

"Isn't that peyote?" Pam realized.

Krieger paused. "Oh yeah. So it is. Uh oh…"

"YOU GAVE US CRAZY CACTUS COCKTAILS?" Cyril shouted.

"Oops," Krieger paused. "Well that explains the slight nausea I'm feeling. As well as my increasing anxiety and paranoia. Nobody else put drugs in the drink right?"

"Why would we put drugs in the drinks when you **already** made the drink out of drugs?" Cyril shouted.

"Good point," Krieger nodded. "Okay so now that I know this is drug based anxiety and paranoia I should be fine. I'm used to it so…"

"WELL WE'RE NOT!" Ray snapped.

"Hey guys?" Cheryl blinked. "Should like the stars be dancing around to Heart and Soul?"

"No…" Ray blinked. "What's weird is that I'm hearing it too. And seeing it too."

"Oh good…" Cyril groaned as the effects of the drugs started to take hold. "This is gonna be a wild trip isn't it?"

"Looks like," Pam sighed.

"Ooh goody!" Krieger grinned. "Shared hallucinations are the most fun!"

"I'd ask how that's possible…" Ray groaned. "But honestly I'm a little freaked out by those dancing constellations."

"The constellations are not the problem," Cyril snapped. "It's that the moon is singing is the problem. And it looks almost exactly like Mac Tonight."

"Oh my God he does," Pam blinked. "Whatever happened to Mac Tonight?"

"I think he's trying to jump start his career in Asia somewhere."

"Who said that?" Pam looked around.

"Down here," A tiny little brown mouse like creature with tiny ears and a long tail spoke from a rock.

"What the hell…?" Ray did a double take. "A talking mouse?"

"With all the weird shit we've seen a **talking mouse** surprises you?" Pam snapped.

"Point taken," Ray shrugged.

"I'm a kangaroo rat," The animal told them. "Name's Kimmy."

"Kimmy the Kangaroo Rat," Cyril blinked.

"A girl spirit guide," Pam grinned. "Girl power."

"Yeah but our spirit guide is a **rat?** " Cheryl asked. "I was kind of expecting a coyote or something."

"Me too," Cyril blinked.

"Everybody expects to see a freaking coyote," Kimmy grumbled. "Like they're so great!"

"I'm not a fan of coyotes," Ray said. "Those bastards ate a lot of my family's chickens over the years."

"Mine too," Pam realized.

"Well rodents are survivors," Krieger admitted. "Most of them."

"Unless Cyril is around with a rocket launcher," Cheryl snickered.

"Sorry I killed your neighbors," Cyril apologized. "The gophers…"

"I'm not," Kimmy said. "They were lousy neighbors. Always fighting. Leaving trash everywhere. Honestly they were really bringing down the property values of the whole desert."

"And this is from a rat," Pam blinked.

"Okay I'm gonna give you each some news and wisdom from the universe," Kimmy said. "Are you ready?"

"Lay it on us sister," Pam said.

"Krieger…You need to get a real girlfriend and stop making so many clones," Kimmy said. "Because some of your clones are making clones. And you know what they say about if you make a copy of a copy it's not as sharp as the original?"

"Are you talking about the Krieglins?" Krieger blinked.

"No, in that case those guys are getting **smarter,** " Kimmy said. "Moving on. Pam…You need to spread out and live your life more. Don't deny the gifts the universe has given you. And the same for you Ray. You two can be so much more than what you are now."

"Oh my God you are so right on," Pam said.

"It's like she's reading our souls," Ray said.

"She is," Pam nodded.

"Cyril you're easy," Kimmy said. "Move on! Forget about Lana! Honestly if I were you I'd leave this group altogether and make a new life far away from them. Far, far away. I hear the Pacific is nice this time of year. Just saying."

Cyril looked at the rat. "This is not news. I **know** this!"

"Just as I knew it would be a waste of time to tell you," Kimmy groaned. "I knew it would but my bosses insisted that I tell you."

"Forget **him!** " Cheryl snapped. "What about **me?** "

"Oh now the rat is important enough right?" Cyril snapped.

"Shut up, Cyril-No-Get Lana," Cheryl told him. "I want advice from the universe!"

"Cheryl…" Kimmy looked at her. "You know what? Nothing I say is going to make any difference to you at this point. You're pretty far gone. I mean even if you did stop with the glue and the drugs and the drinking and auto erotic asphyxiation…And the sniffing of your underwear when you're on the toilet…"

"I do that too!" Pam gasped.

"Me too!" Krieger admitted.

"Big shock," Kimmy said. "Anyway, you're kind of past the point of no return so here's my advice. Buy a lot of cool stuff and enjoy it because odds are you're not going live that long enough anyway."

"I will," Cheryl grinned.

"And what the hell," Kimmy sighed. "You might as well put these guys in your will. Give them some cool stuff to tick off your brother and Tiffy and Mallory Archer…"

"Thanks!" Cyril grinned.

"It would tick them off," Cheryl realized.

"And you guys be nice to Cheryl because if she remembers this night you guys might get some sweet payout," Kimmy nodded. "Of course, this is Cheryl so the odds are fifty-fifty she'll do it but it's worth a shot."

"This is a very good spirit guide," Ray admitted.

"Better than a damn coyote," Krieger nodded. "Okay is everyone else seeing the sand shift and change colors?"

"Yeah that's the drugs kicking in," Kimmy said.

"Okay so now's a good time as any to go crazy," Krieger nodded. "Dance around. Experience oneness with the universe…"

"We all know the drill Krieger," Pam groaned.

"We're a little too familiar with it…" Cyril groaned before everything blacked out in a rush of euphoria and color.

Later the following day…

"Where the hell have you guys been?" Lana asked as the disheveled members of the Figgis Agency trudged into the bullpen. "It's almost noon! Even Mallory arrived before you."

"Well you wanted us to get rid of the rocket launchers," Cyril sighed. He had taken off his sweater vest and tie.

"We went to the desert," Ray explained. "Blew up some of 'em. Got drunk and high off of some peyote punch Krieger made. It didn't wear off until morning."

"Also, we stopped for breakfast at a waffle place," Pam burped. "Got kicked out when Cheryl got into a fight with the owner. Then stopped at another breakfast place."

"Those bastards wouldn't serve Kimmy!" Cheryl held a dead rat in her hand and was petting it.

"Turns out Kimmy was dead all along so…" Pam added as they all sat down. "Weird trip. Weird trip."

"Well we all have our limbs and none of us are injured or missing an eyeball," Krieger looked around. "So it wasn't that bad."

"I should have known," Lana said. "But you destroyed all the rocket launchers, right?"

"Yes," Krieger nodded. "Well most of them."

"Not most of them," Ray said. "Some of them."

"One or two boxes," Pam nodded.

"So what happened to the rest?" Lana snapped. "What did you do? Just bury them in the desert?"

"I don't think we even bothered to bury what was left of them," Cyril realized. "We just left them where they were."

"I can't believe we were able to drive as baked as we were and nobody pulled us over," Pam groaned.

"So somewhere in the desert there are literally boxes of rocket launchers just lying out in the open?" Lana snapped. "Where any idiot can find them?"

"Yup," Krieger nodded.

"Oh goody," Lana groaned. "Homeland security is going to **love that."**

"I know," Cheryl laughed. "Right Kimmy? Kimmy? Kimmy wake up!"

"Cheryl…" Ray rubbed his temple.

"Why isn't Kimmy waking up?" Cheryl shouted.

"Because Kimmy is **dead** you ding dong!" Pam snapped. "I told you this back in the desert five times before…"

"Oh my god!" Cheryl wailed. "YOU KILLED KIMMY! YOU BASTARD!"

"That's not even…" Ray groaned. "Never mind…"

"All right you idiots…" Mallory stormed into the bullpen. "Where…?"

"SHE'S DEAD!" Cheryl screamed. "KIMMY IS DEAD! AND YOU ARE ALL JEALOUS BECAUSE SHE LIKED ME THE MOST AND TOLD ME TO GET ALL COOL STUFF AND NONE OF YOU ARE GOING TO GET ANYTHING! ESPECIALLY YOU MS. ARCHER BECAUSE YOU'RE AN EVIL WRINKLED OLD RAISIN AND I AM SO MUCH BETTER THAN YOU AND OH MY GOD I'M HOLDING A DEAD RAT! AAAAAHHHH!"

She threw the dead rat at Mallory who backed away just in time. Cheryl ran off screaming. "Whose turn is it to get the tranquilizers?" Pam sighed.

"Me," Ray admitted. "I'll knock her out."

"And I'll take this!" Krieger picked up the dead rat. "Waste not want not."

"SUCK IT UNIVERSE!" Cheryl snapped.

"I'd better help you, Ray," Pam sighed as she got up. The two of them went to calm Cheryl down.

"Do I even **want** to know?" Mallory sighed.

"Not particularly," Cyril sighed.

"Okay then," Mallory groaned. "I'm going to just blame everything on Carol…"

"That would be the wisest course of action," Cyril admitted.

"By the way, Krieger," Mallory asked. "Whatever happened to that order of rocket launchers I put in? For dealing with those killer clowns?"

"Called it!" Pam called out from the other room.

"Lana, you want to take this one?" Krieger looked at her.

"I need to take a new career path," Lana groaned.

"I need to consider going to rehab," Cyril grumbled.


End file.
